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swiftli-week-2024 · 1 year ago

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heart, liver, and other matters of the body

Each morning, Lincoln takes in the face in the mirror, and sometimes, he likes what he sees.

Other times, Link glances over the wide eyes done up in borrowed eyeliner, the jawline that seems too square, too sharp today, frets at the broad slope of shoulders, the indelicate scarred brow and callused hands and battered, ashy knees, tries to sculpt the features there into something more feminine with willpower alone.

Or: Lincoln tries on a dress for the first time and comes out to her boyfriend.

ao3

Here's my Swiftli Week fic for Day 6: Secrets! 🤫 I did some research for this one, and it was lots of fun. Hope you enjoy!

(P.S. A little context for the title: xīn’gān - Mandarin term of affection which literally translates to “heart and liver” but is equivalent to “heart and soul” or “my everything” in English. Implies that, like a heart or liver, this partner is something one cannot live without.)

Lincoln Li-Wilson is buzzing with nervous energy all throughout their shopping date.

Link’s boyfriend, Taylor, can clearly tell that something’s off (he’s let his emotions show more plainly over the past few months, but he’s always been observant, always cared, and that makes Link smile fondly).

Lincoln runs a hand along the racks of clothes, distracting anxious nerves through the textures and colors, and graciously, Taylor doesn’t ask.

Not yet , a voice in Lincoln’s head says, only to be batted away by Taylor’s hand brushing against his own as they sift through the clothes together.

The mall doesn’t see a lot of traffic, these days - hasn’t seen a lot of traffic since their parents were teenagers, to be honest - so it almost feels like they have the place to themselves.

It’s nice, Link thinks while thumbing through the hangers, stopping on a flash of buttercup yellow.

It feels soft against the skin, weighty enough to be substantial but not stifling, and the silhouette…

Lincoln takes the garment off the rack, adds it to the others.

Today, today, I’m gonna tell him today, Link repeats like a mantra, disguising nervous, shaking hands by flapping them a little.

“All good, qīn?” Taylor asks, meeting eyes over the rack, and Lincoln’s heart flutters a little at the affectionate name.

After learning how much Link enjoys terms of endearment, Taylor’s insisted on using Mandarin pet names, citing that they still keep up his “cool and slick” reputation in public. Lincoln frankly thinks it’s pretty silly, since anyone with eyes can tell how sappy Taylor is when it comes to…

“Mm,” Link nods. It isn’t a lie, but it isn’t exactly the truth either. “Gonna try these on.”

“Awesome, man!” Taylor replies, and Lincoln doesn’t even flinch. “Want me to, uh, join you in there?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

The offer is very tempting, Link won’t lie, and definitely something they’ve done before - though the trying-on-clothes part historically has the tendency to be abandoned in favor of making out.

“Not today, shǎguā,” Lincoln tells him, voice kept purposefully light and teasing. “You’re gonna have to wait this time.”

“Boo. Have it your way, but I’m definitely sitting on one of those little benches so you can model for me! Plus, my legs could use the break.”

Satisfied, Link leads them through the maze of racks, tries not to dwell on things as they enter the changing rooms marked MEN.

True to his word, Taylor takes up his post on one of the cushioned benches in one of the alcoves, taking out his phone to scroll once he clocks which room Lincoln’s picked.

Link steps in, closes the door, breathes out, and comes face-to-face with the figure in the mirror.

Lincoln’s hair has grown out in the last year or so - rather than being buzzed at the sides, the curls now end around jawline length, depending on how they’re styled.

Taylor visits Hell more frequently, now that things have calmed a little, and Link’s gone with him, asked Terry a bunch of questions about upkeep and styling and braiding that were probably a little too much all at once but were met with enthusiasm and more in-depth answers than what YouTube had to offer.

Link brushes back a few stray twists, meticulously dotted with colored beads and gold cuffs, complemented by the gold flowers dangling from each earlobe and the gold eyeshadow at the inner corners of each eye.

Satisfied, Lincoln begins trying things on, breezing through a graphic Garfield sweatshirt (comfy, but not big enough), a pair of joggers (right size, but the fabric feels a little weird), and an oversized tee shirt (soft and just roomy enough, definitely something to buy).

There’s just one last thing to try.

Carefully, Link takes off the shirt, hangs it back up, pulls on the last article of clothing, shimmies out of the gym shorts from underneath it.

Lincoln fumbles with the side zipper for a little, worried for the briefest moment that it wouldn’t fit around the torso, but manages to get the hang of it, clasps the hook and eye at the top edge awkwardly into place.

Link smooths down the fabric at the hips with nervous hands, then finally allows for a glance upward.

Lincoln stares. And stares.

Someone unfamiliar stares back. But it’s a good unfamiliar, a right unfamiliar.

Link has practiced saying the words in the mirror before, has felt how the shapes of them formed on the tongue, has spoken them into being in whispered, low tones. Link has treated it the same way as practicing his facial expressions, a daily ritual, trying to figure out how to show the right emotions, making sure they look and feel correct on the face as well as in the heart.

Each morning, Lincoln takes in the face in the mirror, and sometimes, he likes what he sees.

On those days, like this morning, Lincoln tries out the words again, mouths them out once more in the present.

She. Her.

And they feel real, feel as true as if she had just taken a whiff of that blue power from the FBI.

Sometimes, they don’t fit, just like he and him don’t feel right, sometimes, like a shirt with the wrong texture, a bite of food that’s a little too mushy.

But sometimes, like right now, they fit Lincoln like a glove.

They fit her like this dress.

The bodice hugs Link’s torso, and though it’s painfully obvious that her upper body is all boxes and angles and no curves, she finds that she doesn’t mind too much.

Straps, about the width of two fingers, tie off in elegant bows that rest at the midpoint between her neck and shoulders, drawing emphasis to her collarbones in a way that makes them look almost delicate. Link frowns a bit at the way the neckline makes her shoulders look so wide.

The light yellow fabric goes phenomenally well with her complexion in a way that makes her dark, freckled skin nearly glow, and the texture is a little stiffer than she’s used to, but it has a nice thickness to it and doesn’t chafe against her skin, with enough give that she instinctively knows wouldn’t hinder her range of motion.

The skirt is full, gathered fabric flaring out around her hips and stopping a few inches above her knees, though she thinks it was probably meant to be a longer dress on someone with shorter legs.

She twists around in it, trying to catch a glimpse of different angles, and the way the hemline flutters around her thighs is completely alien to her, but she thinks she likes it.

She feels feminine. Girly. Is girly.

Lincoln feels like a girl. She is one.

“Link, you okay?” Taylor’s voice is muffled through the door, and there’s a small shadow beneath it, followed by a half-hearted little knock.

Shit.

“You’ve been in there awhile.”

Fuck, has she? Maybe she got a little too carried away staring and lost track of time.

Link wracks her brain for a proper response, a yeah, I’m okay or yes, I’m fine, I’ll be out in a minute , but they get stopped up in her throat as she realizes that she’s still wearing the dress and she hasn’t come out to him yet like she planned to.

“Is it okay if I come in? No funny business, I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Shit shit shit shit shit.

Taylor wears dresses and skirts all the time, it’ll be fine, he won’t be weirded out by it, Lincoln attempts to rationalize. It doesn’t really work, so she tries to speak again.

“‘M fine,” is all that comes out, high-pitched but not in a pretty way.

“You don’t sound fine,” Taylor argues, voice softened out at the edges so that it doesn’t sound accusatory. “Can I please come in?”

Link squints her eyes shut against it all and nods minutely, then realizes that Taylor can’t see her and manages a shaky “Yes.”

“Okay,” he says, and Link hears the door creak open, then shut, hears Taylor’s quiet footfalls.

“So, can I -? Woah .”

Cautiously, Link opens her eyes to see Taylor shaking off an expression of… bewilderment? Confusion? Curiosity?

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, “I’m just - I wasn’t expecting - you look really pretty, dude.”

Feeling a little too overexposed, too raw, too much, Link can’t help the way she flinches.

“Oh, baby,” Taylor says, sadness evident in his voice, and Link hates the sound of it, hates that she made him that way. “Can I touch you?”

Not trusting her voice, Link nods, and her boyfriend steps closer, winds an arm around her back, and she melts into his hold, crumbles into his familiar warmth.

“You’re crying,” he observes quietly, reaching with his other hand to thumb away a tear, and Lincoln hadn’t even registered the wetness spilling down her cheeks until he mentioned it.

“I’m fine, I promise.” Link’s voice sounds a little too deep to her own ears, discordant with the girl in the mirror, and another tear slips out anyway. “Just… overwhelmed?”

“Okay,” Taylor says, “We can work with that, xīn’gān.”

Xīn’gān , Lincoln thinks, heart and liver, my everything . Taylor only uses that when he’s serious.

“Can you tell me what you’re thinking?” he asks.

“It’s silly,” Link starts, then continues before Taylor can refute it. “I just… it’s hard, and I’ve been meaning to tell you, I promise, I just… couldn’t figure out when or how.”

She laughs a little, then, high-strung and nervous.

Lincoln pulls away, glances at their reflections, and Taylor’s eyes follow hers.

“You’re not, uh, breaking up with me in this dressing room, right?”

“No,” she says, a little too loud. “No,” she repeats, forcing her voice softer, higher. “This is a good thing, I swear, it’s just…” “Hard?” Taylor asks.

“Mm.”

Lincoln inhales shakily, reaches for Taylor’s hand, and Taylor latches them together, gives them a light squeeze.

God, she’s so lucky to have him.

Her free hand fists in the fabric of the dress, and she squeezes her eyes shut.

“I think I’m trans.”

She said it. There’s no taking it back now.

Taylor’s thumb runs along the side of her hand. “That’s amazing, babe. I’m so proud of you,” he says, and Link knew in the back of her mind that her boyfriend would always be supportive, but that last irrational bit of fear finally vaporizes.

Lincoln opens her eyes, and Taylor’s looking at her with so much open affection that it makes her eyes water up with tears again, and she brushes them away.

“I’m not… I still like being a guy, sometimes,” She says, the words leaving her in a rush, “but sometimes I feel more like a girl? And sometimes it’s a little bit of both?”

“That’s cool,” Taylor says with another encouraging squeeze to their joined hands.

“I think I might be… bigender?” Link tells him, and wow, it’s so nice to hear the word aloud, to tell someone. “Or maybe genderfluid? Genderqueer, definitely.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Her boyfriend says with a smile, looking a little misty-eyed himself. “Coming out’s really fucking nerve-wracking, isn’t it?”

“No kidding.”

“Is Link still okay to use?”

“I think so, yeah,” Lincoln responds, and she’s thought quite a bit about it. Despite how masculine her full name is, Link still likes it a lot. Maybe she’d find something later, but for now, she’s content with it.

“I, um,” Lincoln stutters, a little unsure of how to word it. “Is it alright if you use she/ her for me today? I still like he/him, but… feminine feels better right now.”

“Of course. Speaking of feminine, this dress looks fantastic on you.”

“Really?” Link asks, twisting a little and glancing back at the mirror, grateful to see that her makeup still looks okay.

“Really. You should buy it! If you like it, too, of course.”

“I do,” She confirms, wiping up the last of her tears, letting go of Taylor’s hand to pat her face dry with the backs of her palms. “I really do.”

“Did you do a little spin yet?” There’s a fond excitement in Taylor’s eyes as he looks her up and down - not just appraisingly, but lovingly.

She shakes her head.

“Trust me, it’s the best part. I know these things.”

Lincoln spins around a little, curious, and the way the dress floats around her, the way the fabric laps against her legs like waves - it’s addictive and oddly freeing. She twirls a little faster, reveling in the feel of it, and a smile stretches wide on her face as she lets out a little whoop of excitement.

“This is amazing, Tay!”

“It’s great, right?”

Link comes to a stop, her dress still in motion from the force of her whirling, and she’s giddy as the fabric swooshes, then settles.

“Yeah. Wow, I kinda never wanna take this off.” She smooths her hands down her sides and over her waist, looking up again at her reflection.

She looks happy.

Lincoln is happy - really, truly, incandescently happy, in a way she doesn’t think she’s felt in a long, long time.

“You do kinda need to take it off to buy it, though,” Taylor says. “As much as I love how gorgeous you look in it.”

“Guess so,” Link says, already dreading changing back. Maybe she can convince Taylor to help her out of the dress - with minimal making out. Maybe.

“Have you told anyone else?” Taylor asks her, dispersing Lincoln’s brief fantasies.

Link shakes her head. “I thought about telling Dad, but, well, he’d want to tell Grant… things are still a little rocky between us, but, like, I still love him, and I don’t wanna hurt his feelings by not telling him directly? Does that even make sense?” “It does, I think,” Taylor says.

“I’m gonna tell Normal and Scary, soon, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“And… I was thinking of talking to Hermie about… this. Gender,” Lincoln confesses, though she still cringes at the thought of it. She didn’t like to admit it to herself, but they probably knew a lot more about gender nonconformity than Link’s figured out through her own research.

“Mm, my auncle probably has some good insights, even if the two of you don’t really get along,” Taylor muses, seemingly on a similar train of thought.

“She's probably not gonna make fun of me, right?”

Her boyfriend’s eyes gleam with demonic light even in the weird fluorescent lighting of the changing room, brows furrowed, and Lincoln’s stomach does a funny little flip at the expression. “Link,” He says seriously, “If they’re even the slightest bit mean about it, I’m fucking his shit up on sight. I don’t care if we’re related - Nobody messes with my girlfriend.”

My girlfriend, Link’s mind plays back, loops it like a broken record as something shining and effervescent floods the cavities of her lungs. My girlfriend, my girlfriend, I’m his girlfriend .

Lincoln must not be making the right face, because Taylor hastily tacks on, “W-who is also my boyfriend! Sometimes?”

He blinks up at her, brows tilted upwards in concern, a silent are you okay? and god, Link is so, so happy that she lets out a little huff of laughter.

“No, no, it’s not that, I just… I didn’t realize how much I’d like hearing you say that.”

“Oh?” A shit-eating grin forms on her boyfriend’s face, and before she can do anything about it, he’s reaching up to cup her cheek in his hand. “I have the most beautiful, gorgeous girlfriend in the world. I adore her big brown eyes, her pretty hair, her stunning smile… oh, my god, look at that, there it is, my girlfriend’s smile.”

“Stop,” Link says, half-hearted and breathless, so much heat rushing to her dimpled cheeks that Taylor, even with his demonic heritage, can probably feel it. And she would look down, but she’d only meet Taylor’s smug, knowing smirk, and that would only make her more ridiculously happy.

Taylor moves his hands to her waist, squeezes at her sides, and though she’s sure he’s continuing his goofy little litany, she’s a little too overwhelmed by sheer exhilaration to make out most of it.

Not quite sure what to do with all her joy, laughter tumbles out, lower and raspier than she would like at the moment, but loud and bright and full.

“Oh, wow, my girlfriend just laughed and it’s my favorite sound in the whole wide world!” Taylor says, and she can hear the beam in his voice, so wide that his eyes narrow to crescents. “My girlfriend looks so pretty in this dress. I’m gonna have to buy her a dozen more.”

“You are not doing that!”

“Of course I am,” Taylor refutes, shaking his head with that adorable vehemence of his. “I’m rich! One for every day of the week, at least. You look so happy in it. I’m gonna spoil you so bad, wô de tiānshî.”

“Wô de tiānshî,” Lincoln parrots, sounding out the rise and fall of the syllables carefully. “I haven’t heard that one. What does it mean?”

“‘My angel,’” Taylor tells her softly, thumbs gently circling at her waist, and the reverence in his eyes makes her feel simultaneously unmovable and unsteady on her feet. “I always thought it would suit you, but traditionally, it’s used for girlfriends. Unless that’s too, like, weirdly gendered, uh, if it makes you uncomfortable -”

Link crushes her wonderful, amazing boyfriend to herself in a tight hug.

In an instant, Taylor’s arms circle around her, too, and so much about her has felt wrong lately, but this has always, always felt right.

“I love it,” Lincoln says, “I love you . Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Love you, too,” he replies, and they stay like that for a few long moments.

Eventually, Link pulls away, and Taylor drops his arms.

“So, wanna get this dress and get out of here and go for froyo in the food court?” He asks.

“Only if you help me take this off,” Link answers, waggling her eyebrows like Taylor had earlier. "Seriously, the zippers on these things are kinda tricky."

Taylor laughs.

“That’s my girl.”

#dndads swiftli week 2024 #day 6

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swiftli-week-2024 · 1 year ago

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DAY 6 // PROPOSAL/ OVERPROTECTIVE/ SECRETS

heh, ring pop acquired

i kneel down and say, lincoln

please be my best friend?

#dndads swiftli week 2024 #day 6

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swiftli-week-2024 · 1 year ago

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protecting the paladin

The story of Taylor's friendship with Link, and Taylor's journey in navigating how to help out someone with an anxiety disorder and more.

Swiftli Week Day 6: Overprotective

ao3

Taylor wakes up to see Link curled up in a ball across from him on the floor of the cat bus, with his knees drawn to his chest and his head buried in them.

"Link?"

No response. And then Taylor hears a sob, and Link lifts his head a little, gasping for air.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s going on?” Taylor asks, crawling closer to him.

Link whines, and clasps his hands over his face. He’s drenched in sweat. “I—I don’t… I—I don’t have my meds,” he stutters out between breaths. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, fuck, I—I can’t—”

Gasping again, and again, and again, Link sounds like he’s in horrible pain.

“ Gah —Link, uh, breathe man,” Taylor says, putting a tentative hand on Link’s shoulder, “Wha—what are your meds for?” 'Are you dying right now?’ he doesn’t ask.

“Ah—an— anxiety… ” Link forces out. “I—mm… a—anxiety attack… ‘s bad, ‘s bad, can’t breathe —” Link sobs before doubling over, his face nearly hitting the floor as he hyperventilates.

“Whoa! Okay, okay, okay, let’s get you back up,” Taylor says, scrambling to lift Link back up by the shoulders so he’s leaning against the wall.

“Taylor,” Link says in practically a whisper, moving his hands away from his face in favour of weakly grasping at the air, his eyes shut tight. Taylor takes the hint and clasps Link’s hands in his own.

They’re trembling violently.

“Yeah?” Taylor hears his own voice break a little despite himself.

“Nnn… need help. Can’t breathe. ‘M dying.” Fresh tears slide down Link’s cheeks as he fights for air. It’s like he’s drowning.

“You—you’re hyperventilating, not dying. Ah, fuck, um… can—can I hug you?” Taylor asks.

Link nods, and Taylor wraps his arms around his torso, and Link hugs him back tightly.

“Listen, I—I don’t really know how… how to help… but I want to. Uh… just. Uh. You can feel me, right? You can feel me holding you right now. Just, uh, focus on that. I’m here for you.”

“‘Kay. I—I… sorry . Hard. Talk. Can’t.”

“It’s chill, dude. Don’t—uh—don’t sweat it.”

Taylor feels Link’s head fall onto his shoulder, and it feels like his breathing is slowing down a little, though it’s still alarmingly shallow.

“I got you, deep breaths, you got this,” Taylor says, patting Link’s back, hoping that’ll help some. “Uh, follow along with me?”

Taylor breathes an exaggerated breath in, and an exaggerated breath out, relieved when Link starts to follow along.

“Sorry,” Link whispers on the exhale.

“You’re fine, man. ‘S okay,” Taylor hushes, rubbing his back.

Link hums, pressing his forehead further against Taylor’s shoulder and continuing to take deep breaths.

His tight grip on Taylor loosens a little as he calms down some more.

“Just breathe. You’re okay, I’m right here.”

“Okay, okay, I—I…” Link takes a few deep breaths. “I’m…” Link pulls away from the hug to hold his head. His hands are still really shaky, and his breathing is slightly staggered, but mostly stable. He moves a hand to his chest, and scrunches up his face for a second before opening his eyes, staring at the floor.

“Link…?” Taylor bends down a little, trying to tilt his head in such a way that he can meet Link’s gaze, but it seems like he’s staring off at nothing.

“I’m… okay,” Link says, his voice hoarse.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I… have… haven’t ha…had one, um, bad… in… while,” Link stutters out, wincing at his own speech. “Sorry.”

“Dude, if it’s hard for you to talk, you don’t have to. I know ASL, if you—I mean, I don’t know if you know it, but if you do… uh...”

Link shakes his head. “Sorry,” he repeats.

Taylor makes a mental note to teach him some signs later.

“It’s okay,” Taylor says, grabbing hold of his hands again. “That looked rough as hell, dude.”

“I… I… I… sorry —”

“Take your time, man.”

“Had anxiety since I was little,” Link says, his eyes welling up again. “And meds. To help. ‘S bad. Really bad.”

Taylor nods, giving his hands a squeeze.

“Sss…sorry you had to… had to see that.”

“Dude. I’m sorry you have to go through that. I might not fully get it, but I wanna help you. That’s what friends are for.”

Link shuts his eyes, and Taylor watches the tears fall. It’s not long before he leans forward to plant a kiss on Link’s cheek, cupping the other in his palm. Taylor thinks he hears a small gasp at the action, but it doesn’t sound like one of distress, so he makes no comment. “Wanna go back to sleep?”

“Yeah. Think so.”

Link lays back down, and Taylor wraps his arms around his torso, hopefully keeping him calm and warm.

“So, uh, um, don’t answer if you don’t wanna, or whatever, but, like, do you have… an anxiety disorder? I mean, is that, is that what caused the…”

Taylor trails off, looking anywhere that isn’t Link’s eyes. He waited a few days, but it’s been gnawing at him.

“Yeah. I have generalized anxiety disorder. Um, thanks for helping me, by the way.”

“Of course. I just—I’m not, like, good at this stuff. I mean, I have disorders too!” he says, maybe sounding a bit too excited. “Uh… I have ADHD. Also on meds. Since I was little. Like you! And then there’s um, the physical stuff, but we don’t need to get into all that.”

Link glances down at Taylor’s cane. Taylor tightens his grip on the handle. Never has he had such an awkward conversation.

“I’ve only ever really had my dads help me with panic attacks before.”

“Did I do a good job?”

Taylor did not mean to say that out loud. Stupid impulsivity.

Link chuckles. “Yeah. Thank you.”

“Heh, of course.”

“Sorry again.”

“Hey, man, I don’t go around apologizing for my disorders, and neither should you.”

Link averts his gaze, scrunching up his face a little. Wrong dialogue option, maybe.

Google Search: generalized anxiety disorder

how to help someone with anxiety

how to help someone with panic attacks

breathing exercises

panic attack grounding

Taylor grabs an empty notebook and a gel pen and gets to work.

First, he writes down what helped Link last time. The hug seemed to help. So he writes that. Though Taylor was floundering the entire time… hopefully these notes will help things go more smoothly.

There’s the 5-4-3-2-1 method, focusing on the senses, to bring someone back to the present. He writes that one down first.

Then there’s a few breathing exercises with different amounts of seconds for each exercise. He writes down a few.

He also writes down the signs of a panic attack coming on, because catching it early would make it easier to help Link calm down from it.

Link probably knows some of these techniques, at least, Taylor thinks he’s seen his dads use them with him before, but Link didn’t seem all too comfortable talking about his anxiety, so it’s probably best to not bring it up out of nowhere.

After about four hours of watching anime with Tony Pepperoni after school, everyone decides to take a little break to do some homework.

Everyone also knows that Normal is the only one who will actually do any homework.

Taylor is leaning against Link on the couch when suddenly he shifts to stand up.

“Um, I’ll… I’ll be right back, I—I think I left something in my room.”

He rushes up the stairs, but not before Taylor notices his hands trembling.

The stuttering, plus the trembling…

Taylor follows after him.

He knocks on the door. “Link? Can I come in?”

There’s no response, so Taylor opens the door, steps in, and shuts it behind him.

Link is sitting on his bed with his knees drawn to his chest and his head buried in them.

Taylor sits across from him. “Link? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Link forces out before a particularly loud gasp.

“Are you having a panic attack?”

He nods.

“Okay. That’s okay, man. Can I touch you?”

He nods again.

Taylor holds Link’s hands in his own and gives them a squeeze. Pressure is supposed to help, according to his research.

“Link, can you tell me five things you can see?” Taylor asks, tryng to keep his voice soft and gentle.

Link lifts his head and opens his eyes. There’s tears streaming down his cheeks that make Taylor’s heart break a little. “I—I can see you, and… my calendar, and…”

Link pauses, fighting for breath.

“You got this.”

“My bed. Door. Ceiling.”

“Good. Now what are four things you can… feel? Four things you can feel.”

“Your hands,” Link says, squeezing back. “My bed. Sweat. Um… shaking. I’m shaking. Does that count?”

“I think so. Okay. What are three things you can hear?”

Link closes his eyes and rests his head on his knees again. “Your voice… my voice… my breathing.”

“Good. What about two things you can smell?”

“Sweat… and… you.”

“What do I smell like?” Taylor asks, slightly caught off guard by his own curiosity.

“Comforting.”

“Okay. What’s one thing you can taste?”

“I don’t know, spit?”

“That works. Are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah,” Link says, and Taylor can hear it in his voice. The shaking is lesser now, and his breathing, while still staggered, is a lot steadier than before. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to be, dude. I gotchu. Can I hug you?”

“Yeah.”

Taylor lets go of Link’s hands and wraps his arms around him.

Link melts into the hug, wrapping his arms around the small of Taylor’s back. “Since when did you know that grounding exercise?” he asks.

“I did my research.”

“Your research?”

Taylor pulls away from the hug for a second to pull a small notebook out of his pocket and hand it to Link.

Link flips through it, eyes wide. “Why did you…”

“To help you out. Anxiety sucks, so I wanna help when I can.”

“Thank you. I don’t even know what to say.”

“Well, I think thank you was a solid choice. And to that I say you’re welcome.”

Link grabs a pencil off his bedside table and makes a writing gesture to Taylor. “May I?”

“Go for it. I was planning on asking you for specific things that would help, but I didn’t want to stress you out.”

“I love you so much, Taylor.”

“I love you too, man.”

Taylor sits with Link for a while as he writes down some more grounding technique stuff and other information about his anxiety attacks in Taylor’s notebook. When he’s done, they both lie down on top of the blanket and cuddle, having forgotten about the people waiting downstairs.

Now that the quest is over, Taylor can finally focus on a concern of his that’s been on his mind for a while. Whatever is going on with Link.

He’ll have these sudden moments where he’s just totally out of it. He’ll zone out for hours, and when he talks it’s like he’s on autopilot.

Maybe talking to him would be better, but he doesn’t want to make it worse, so…

Google Search: zoning out too much and not responding

Okay. Zoning out is a type of dissociation.

What is dissociation.

Google Search: dissociation

Okay. It’s a response to stress and trauma (makes sense), and it’s where you feel disconnected from everything around you? That does not sound fun.

It looks like the 54321 method helps with dissociation too, so Taylor jots that down.

Sensory stimulation also helps, unless the person is overstimulated. And asking questions helps too.

Taylor also writes down the warning signs for dissociation, though he thinks he’ll be able to tell, it’s always good to be certain.

“Have you solved question six yet?” Taylor asks, staring at his math textbook and worrying his pen between his teeth.

Taylor hates studying.

He never really does it, but failing every quiz this semester made his teacher call home, and, well, his mom doesn’t put much emphasis on school at all, but she did recommend studying more. And offered to get Taylor a tutor, but he didn’t want that.

Link’s grades in math suck too, so they made a deal to study together, and that’s what they’re doing now, sitting on Taylor’s bed surrounded by snacks and worksheets.

“Mm.”

Taylor looks over at Link, who’s staring at a blank sheet of lined paper with his name written in the top left corner.

The pencil is shaking in his hand.

“Hey, Link?” Taylor puts a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t respond. Taylor moves to sit in front of Link, pushing the papers aside and placing his hands on Link’s shoulders. “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah. Sorry I… I’m kinda out of it,” Link mumbles, still staring at the paper on his lap.

“I think you’re dis… um…”

What was the word again?

“Dissociating,” Link says.

“Yeah, that.”

“That’s… that’s what my dad said…”

“Okay, that’s okay, um…”

Sensory stimulation. Pressure. Pressure would be good.

“Hey, you like holding onto me, right?” Taylor asks.

Link doesn’t respond, but Taylor takes the paper and books out from Link’s lap and sits in it, wrapping Link’s arms around himself. Taylor’s noticed that when Link is stressed he’ll just squeeze Taylor like he’s a plushie, so maybe this will help.

Taylor lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when Link squeezes him.

“Do you want to listen to music? Watch a show?”

“Wanna listen to you talk.”

“I can do that.”

Taylor starts to ramble mindlessly, about the cosplay he’s been working on (his self-insert host for Ouran High ), new battle maneuvers he’s been practicing, birthday present plans, and whatever else floats into his brain.

After a while of rambling, and Link starting to be more responsive in the conversation, Taylor asks, “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah. Don’t wanna study though.”

“Me neither.”

Link adjusts in bed so he’s lying down, his hands still wrapped around Taylor’s torso. “Nap time.”

Taylor takes off his glasses, and then takes off Link’s glasses, and puts them both on his bedside table, before turning around and burying his face in Link’s chest.

“You know how I have a notebook full of signs and things to do when you need help with your anxiety and stuff?”

“You still have that?” Link asks, turning to face Taylor. There was a fifty percent chance he had fallen asleep already, but Taylor got lucky. It’s also a 50/50 toss up on whether Normal and Scary are asleep too, but they’re in sleeping bags away from the bed.

“I add to it all the time.”

“Wow.”

“Can I show my notes to Normal and Scary? I think it’d be helpful for them to know.”

Link leans forward and kisses Taylor on the forehead, causing him to blush.

“Yeah, you can.”

“Why did you kiss me?”

“‘Cause you’re so sweet.”

“I want another one.”

Link kisses his forehead again.

And Taylor makes a mental note to inform Normal and Scary on all his notes the next morning, because Link shouldn’t have to struggle alone, and Taylor is determined to make sure that he never does again.

#dndads swiftli week 2024 #day 6

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swiftli-week-2024 · 1 year ago

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Welcome to Day 6!

Swiftli enjoyers, we've got quite the Proposal for you 💍... some Day 6 prompt-posals, that is! Whether exploring this pairing's Overprotective tendencies ⚔️ or adding an air of mystery and sussing out some Secrets 🤫, we hope you have fun creating!

Make sure to tag your works with '#dndads swiftli week 2024' and we'll reblog it here!

Posting on AO3? Add it to the Dndads Swiftli Week 2024 AO3 collection!

#dndads swiftli week 2024 #dndads #dungeons and daddies #swiftli #day 6

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swiftli-week-2024 · 1 year ago

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out of my head (when you’re not around)

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” Link slurs, voice low and lazy and scratchy from sleep, and he shifts a bit more.

Suddenly, there’s a warm, pliant pressure against Taylor’s chapped lips, followed by a soft pop as Link breaks the kiss. “Ten m’re minness, mkay?”

And with that, Link tucks his head into the side of Taylor’s neck, drapes his arm across Taylor’s stomach, and drops back off into slumber.

What the fuck.

“What the fuck?” Taylor exclaims aloud, because his best friend just kissed him like he’s been doing it for months on end and they’re very close, but never like that.

Or: Lincoln dreams about his life in the simulation, and some wires get crossed.

ao3

Better late than never! Here's my fic for Day 5 of Swiftli Week: Queerplatonic / Ride or Die 💗 This one turned out a good bit longer than expected, but I hope I did my fellow qpr Swiftli enjoyers justice with it!

Taylor Swift wakes up to bright orange against the backs of his eyelids and the sensation of being held. Only one of these things annoys him.

“Hey,” he stage-whispers to Lincoln Li-Wilson, one of his partners in world-saving last year and his closest friend. “Gotta get up and close the blinds.”

He nudges an arm gently with his shoulder.

Link’s very prone to cuddling in his sleep, Taylor’s realized. Most of their sleepover nights end with his lanky limbs curled around him or one of their friends, protective even when there’s no need for it.

(Taylor would never tell him this, but he certainly appreciates it - nightmares of Doodler-twisted mayors beneath his bed are fewer these days, but he feels safer having his secure arms around him.)

Plus, Taylor’s always run pretty hot, and Lincoln has a penchant for seeking out anything to warm him as he rests. Often, Taylor ends up with Normal or Scary pressed into his other side, complaining about how Link stole their blankets.

It’s just the two of them this time, though, so the room is peacefully quiet. Now, if only the stupid goddamn sun wasn’t glowing through his eyelids and preventing him from sleeping in…

“Get off me, please,” Taylor mutters, a tiny bit louder now, wriggling in his grasp to see if he can escape -

“Mmn,” Link groans wordlessly, shifting to throw a leg across Taylor’s own, which is decidedly the opposite of what Taylor asked.

Link’s eyes flutter to half-mast for the briefest of moments, leaning further into Taylor if at all possible. It’s kind of adorable, the way his face screws up against the light.

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” Link slurs, voice low and lazy and scratchy from sleep, and he shifts a bit more. Suddenly, there’s a warm, pliant pressure against Taylor’s chapped lips, followed by a soft pop as Link breaks the kiss. “Ten m’re minness, mkay?”

And with that, Link tucks his head into the side of Taylor’s neck, drapes his arm across Taylor’s stomach, and drops back off into slumber.

What the fuck.

“What the fuck?” Taylor exclaims aloud, because his best friend just kissed him like he’s been doing it for months on end and they’re very close, but never like that, and what the fuck?

“Link,” Taylor says, prodding him much more urgently than before. “The fuck was that, man?”

Link makes a questioning sort of grumble before propping up his chin on Taylor’s chest (on Taylor’s unbound chest, what the fuck ), muttering nonsense as he blinks blearily, squinting without the help of his glasses.

Then, his eyes widen comically.

“You’re not Chris.”

Link’s voice is still thick with sleep but also heavy with a dawning realization.

“No?” Taylor agrees, though it sounds more like a question.

Link backs away so quickly that he nearly topples out of Taylor’s king-sized bed.

“Dude!” Taylor shouts, diving across the comforter to grab at his wrist.

“You okay, man?” He asks after he’s sure that Link isn’t in danger of falling off his bed and dragging him down with him.

“I’m - I’m sorry,” Link says instead, which is totally not answering the yes-or-no question.

Though, looking at his best friend, it’s easy to tell what the answer is as he hauls himself back onto the mattress.

Link has this… blankness in his eyes. Taylor’s seen it happen a few times before, actually. With the firemen, with Tony, even with Hermie. It’s like he’s not all there, haunted, more of a void in a person’s body than a person. The wrist Taylor’s holding twitches, then twitches again, and again, but it’s only when Taylor looks down that he realizes he’s shaking.

“Hey, man, don’t freak out on me,” Taylor says, tapping on his wrist in an attempt to ground him as he scoots closer.

Link laughs, a pinched, shrill, hysterical thing as he shrinks away, back pressed against the headboard.

“No, no, no, no, you don’t get to say that, you’re the one who should be freaking out,” he responds, and while Taylor’s glad that his friend is at least present enough to hear him, the words come out all strangled and gasping.

Whatever’s got him so choked up holds Taylor’s heart in a vice grip.

“I’m not freaking out,” Taylor says, then reconsiders. “Okay, I’m freaking out a little. I just got kissed out of nowhere, I feel like it’s warranted.”

Link makes a wordless squeak. He draws his knees to his chest and buries his head in them, still shaking.

“But. You’re freaking out more, so that’s more important. And you apologized, and I forgive you - which, fuck, I guess I should’ve led with that, but - but I need you to be okay first”

Taylor doesn’t have the faintest clue what could’ve set Link off - the kiss is the only thing he could think of, but then again, he initiated it. Maybe Taylor has bad morning breath?

Whatever the reason, he needs him to calm down.

“It’s okay, Link,” he soothes, opting not to move closer but speaking loudly and slowly enough so that it can break through the anxious thoughts swirling in his friend’s head. “I’m not mad. Just confused.”

“Really?” Lincoln peeks through the slats of his fingers at him, and the hopefulness in his voice shatters something in Taylor.

“Really,” he confirms. Why the hell did Link think he’d be angry with him? Even though it had been Taylor’s first kiss, it’s not like Link had intended to go through with it, given that he had backed away once he realized -

Oh. Taylor’s starting to put together what this could be about.

“Sorry,” Link says again, face no longer blocked by his hands but eyes still downcast.

Taylor frowns. “You already said that.”

“I know.”

“So…” Taylor prompts after a beat, seeing that most of the tension is gone from Link’s body. “You okay?”

Link slumps a little, but at least he isn’t shaking anymore. “Not really.”

Taylor scooches a tiny bit closer to him, and when Lincoln makes no move to get away, he joins him at the headboard, nudging him with his shoulder.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Link groans. “You deserve an explanation,” he says, though it looks like it pains him.

“You don’t uh, have to if you don’t want to.” Taylor attempts to shift beneath the hefty, itchy, too-tight compression of vulnerability, and it comes out through wringing hands that immediately fist themselves in the comforter.

He can totally do feelings, if that’s what Lincoln needs to get off his chest. It’s Link.

He’d do just about anything for him, has done just about anything, has turned around and doubled back to the FBI for him, has gone through the layers of Hell with him, has watched countless episodes of soccer anime just to figure out the game and see the cute little smile he gets when he mentions something about it.

This, he can handle.

He just hopes Lincoln can, too.

And if he can’t, well…

Link exhales loudly, shaking Taylor out of his own thoughts.

“It’s… well,” he starts, voice going soft and nerve-wracked and almost reedy in a way Taylor hasn’t heard in a long, long time. “Do you remember the simulation?”

“It’d be hard to forget, I think,” he says. “I just know my own, of course, but… you had a spouse in yours, right?”

Taylor hasn’t really thought much about the simulation. It was early on in their adventure, and there were much cooler, much more fucked-up things that took precedence in his mind. He hasn’t really given much thought to what the others went through, then.

Maybe he should have.

“Yeah,” Lincoln says. “Yeah, I did.”

Then, “I dream about them, sometimes.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

Link grimaces. “Yeah. And just, they feel so real sometimes. The dreams, I mean. The, uh, marriage, too, I guess, which is kinda stupid since I’m the only one who remembers anything and I’m still a teenager even if I’m technically over a hundred years old -”

“Hey,” Taylor interrupts, voice sharp, reaching out a hand to hover above Link’s own but not touching, unsure if it’ll help ground him enough to stop his spiraling or if it will only make matters worse.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not stupid,” he says with a conviction that surprises even him.

There’s a beat of silence, and Taylor tries to meet his friend’s gaze, wanting so badly to decipher the emotions on Link’s face and offer comfort.

Lincoln silently turns over his hand, palm-up, an invitation. Taylor takes it in his, trying not to be distracted by how cool his skin feels compared to his own.

“Okay?” He asks, giving his hand a little squeeze.

Link sighs, squeezes back, steeling himself. “Okay. I guess… it’s not that I have these dreams super often, it just. Happens. And even if it wasn’t real, my subconscious can’t, like… get over the fact that I wasn’t married for years, and… and when I woke up, it still felt like I was dreaming, and you were cuddled up next to me, and…”

Taylor’s face feels oddly warm for some reason, but he understands now.

“Crossed wires, huh?”

Link simply nods, looking incredibly guilty and sad.

“I’m not mad at you,” Taylor reminds him, “Or like, think you’re weird, or whatever. You know that, right?”

Lincoln hums uncertainly.

“I promise, dude.” Taylor searches for the right words, and he isn’t really sure that there are any. “You’re always gonna be my best friend, man. You didn’t, like, weird me out too much or whatever. This changes nothing.”

“Thank god,” he mutters, visibly relieved. “To be honest, I don’t know if I could handle fucking up another relationship in my life.”

Taylor squeezes Link’s hand again and wonders how he could ever think that their friendship would be ruined over this.

“You haven’t fucked anything up, my guy,” Taylor reassures. Then, because Taylor doesn’t know when to shut up, he asks, “Another relationship? I mean, I know things are kinda rocky with your dads, but -”

Link lets go of Taylor’s hand and, shit, Taylor definitely shouldn’t have asked that, should he?

Lincoln isn’t looking at him, though. Instead, he reaches for the ring he left on Taylor’s bedside table, fidgets with it in his hands for a little, slides it onto his middle finger. The black metal glints in the early morning light.

“Yeah, things with my dads are still a little shitty,” Link says, “But we’re working it out. I think.” Taylor nods.

“But… in the sim… the marriage with Chris didn’t work out too well,” he continues haltingly. “And, like, it wasn’t my fault, but it… kinda felt like it was? Like I fucked it up. It wasn’t the only reason we were considering separating, but… I didn’t know that I was ace until, uh, after.”

“That’s rough,” Taylor says, which is a little lame to say to something like that, but it’s literally all he can think to say.

It kinda recontextualizes a lot of things, like how Link was so quick to call their affectionate names after they got space-married, how he fixated on the concept of being married in the first place… but Taylor pushes those thoughts aside later.

He instead tries to imagine only realizing he was aromantic after dating someone, and it only produces an uncomfortable churning in his gut - especially given the fact that he knows he doesn’t really want to date anyone in the first place.

Link fidgets with the ring on his finger, keeping his gaze purposefully lowered. “I worried that I, like, tricked them into thinking I was a n- a typical person. Like I made them fall in love with someone who didn’t - who couldn’t - like I was attracted to them that way, and I fooled myself, too, and then I realized that no, I don’t work like that, and I -“

“Shit,” Taylor mutters, noticing the tear tracks streaming down his friend’s cheeks and quickly scrambling for the box of tissues next to his bed.

“Sorry, I just,” he continues, sniffling, “I felt so guilty that I couldn’t give them the kind of marriage they wanted, the one they deserved, and I felt selfish and awful and -“

“Woah, woah, woah, man,” Taylor placates, holding out a tissue. Link takes it and stares at it blankly for a moment before swiping it below his eyes.

“Sorry, sorry,” Link apologizes, which is silly because he already apologized for kissing him like 50 times at least and so he has absolutely nothing to be sorry for. “This wasn’t how I wanted you to find out.”

Taylor’s heart sinks a little.

“How did you want me to find out?” He asks as gently as he can manage.

Link laughs mirthlessly, and Taylor hates how hollow it sounds.

“Ideally? Never.”

“Dude.”

“Up until now, I’ve been handling it fine on my own, and I wouldn’t want t-“

“Dude,” Taylor repeats, and Link slumps further in on himself.

After a moment’s hesitation, Taylor scooches closer to him and places a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder blade, rubbing soothing circles into it to hopefully calm him down.

“Hey, we’re ride or die, man, remember?” Taylor asks.

“Yeah,” Lincoln replies, though it doesn’t sound like he believes it.

“And it’s not just me. That goes for Norm and Scary, too,” he adds, and he ducks down a little to meet his friend’s misty eyes.

This guy faced down gunfire for him, healed him, protected him, despite everything. Link means so much to Taylor that it feels like his heart might burst with it, sometimes.

And it kinda kills him, Taylor realizes, that Link might not know that.

“We care about you, Link, and we’ve been through a lot of jacked-up shit. We help each other with our jacked-up shit, and you’re not the exception, got that?”

Lincoln nods, though his lip quivers a little.

“Just talk to us, man,” Taylor says. “We get it - I mean, not exactly in my case!” He clarifies, “But. I understand where you’re coming from, and. We just wanna see you happy. Time fuckery is, like, typical Tuesday shit.”

“It hasn’t been typical Tuesday shit in like, ten months,” Lincoln says, and his voice is a little wavery, but it almost sounds like he’s smiling. Taylor counts that as a win.

“Thank fuck for that!” Taylor agrees, and then Link laughs - really, actually laughs, weak but joyful; Taylor can feel his instinctual grin in response.

“But,” Link says, after the laughter peters out, “there were… parts of it that were good, I guess. With them.”

Again, emotional vulnerability is… not really Taylor’s thing. He prefers to blot out any attempts at deep contemplation with humor.

That’s what his therapist tells him, at least.

He’s trying to get better at it, at the feeling-things-fully-and-sitting-with-it shit.

“Like what?” Taylor prompts.

Link smiles, slight and wistful, and gazes up at the ceiling. It’s an unfamiliar look on him, one that makes him seem older and younger at the same time, somehow.

“Well, the, uh, kissing, for one?” Then, he grimaces a little. “ Some of the kissing,” he amends. “It’s funny. I didn’t think I would miss it at all - I hadn’t really even thought about it until, uh, god, my early twenties? In the sim? But it’s… nice. Can be nice. Uh.”

Taylor makes an affirmative sort of hum to let him know he’s listening, trying to shake the lingering feeling that he shouldn’t be seeing his best friend smile at nothing the way he is.

“I think my favorite thing,” Link continues, “was just… waking up to someone. Like, getting up in the morning with one of your favorite people next to you - it’s,” Link cuts himself off with a considering hum, worrying the ring on his finger as he searches for something. “Comforting,” he settles on eventually. “It’s like, this constant in your life. It feels… secure, I guess, to have another person to face down the start of each day with. To take on the world with them every day.”

“Doesn’t sound like a bad gig,” Taylor muses as he attempts to take all that in.

Then, he blurts, “I’d be down to try that out sometime. With you. If you want.”

Unfortunately, Taylor’s brain catches up about two seconds too late.

“I don’t mean in, like, a romantic way, or anything!” He rushes to clarify.

“O-of course not,” Link says, and is it just Taylor, or does his voice sound a little breathier? “I wouldn’t ask that of you, but… you’d really be okay with that?”

Link’s expression is nothing short of wonderment, all wide eyes and raised brows and slightly-parted lips. The weight of his closest friend’s eyes on him feels suddenly like all too much - all that wistfulness and vulnerability and affection directed at him, leaving him with nowhere to hide - but he can’t bring himself to avert his gaze.

“I mean,” Taylor says, feeling at an utter loss for anything profound to say, “Yeah, dude. You’re my best friend. And then some.”

“‘And then some?’” Lincoln echoes, then frowns. “You, uh, don’t have to explain that if you don’t want to, sorry-“

“Quit apologizing, Link,” Taylor interrupts, attempting to swallow down his heart, which currently feels like it’s climbing up his throat. He takes a deep breath, clenches his fists in the fabric of his pajama pants.

“I don’t know how to describe what I feel for you but there’s… a lot of it. Not romantic but not like friendship, per se. I’m not, uh, in love with you, like in the traditional way? But,” he cuts himself off, squeezes his eyes shut to get through the rest. “I love you, Link.”

Taylor feels Link take hold of his hand. It’s the one with the ring, and the metal feels nice against his palm. “It’s okay,” Link says, and Taylor opens his eyes to see his best friend gazing at their interlocked hands adoringly. “I love you, too.” Their eyes meet, and Taylor’s stomach feels all sorts of fluttery. “In that way, I think.”

“Oh,” Taylor says, awestruck. “That’s… wow. Okay.”

“Okay?” Lincoln repeats with a smile in his voice, tracing his thumb along the side of Taylor’s hand.

“Yeah,” Taylor responds, feeling… well, he can’t put a name to it. But it’s a lot.

It wells up in the spaces between his ribs as he glances sidelong at Link, studying the way the rays of golden morning light peek through the blinds to stripe his skin with shades of copper and amber, the way his shirt and his hair are all sleep-softened and rumpled, the way his thumb traces absentmindedly along the side of their joined hands again and again as they lapse into a comfortable silence.

Taylor’s never been one for romance, or for dating, or for particularly wanting either of those things for himself. But when he looks at Lincoln, he thinks he really, really, really wants this. Whatever this is.

Link’s eyebrows furrow, the way they always do when he gets in his head about something. It turns the pale slash of his scar to a lightning-bolt squiggle, and the strange longing-affection threatens to overwhelm him entirely.

Taylor kinda wants to press his thumb against that scar, smooth it over, meet that mark of his friend’s devotion with a gesture of his own.

“Taylor…” Lincoln starts, brows still pinched together and the uncertainty in his tone hangs in the air.

“Mhm?” He runs a thumb across Link’s knuckles, nudges his shoulder, a wordless go on, I’m listening.

“What do you wanna try out, exactly?”

When Taylor looks up at him, he adds, “We don’t have to talk about it right now if you don’t want to! I just - I figured! I don’t know, actually, I’ve never, uh, been in this type of relationship before. If you’re okay with calling it that, haha.”

“Link.” Taylor says, squeezing his hand, and the boy next to him stills almost entirely. “You don’t have to be nervous with me, man. Not like I’ve exactly done this, either.”

Taylor hums a little, shifting on the mattress to rest his head against Link’s shoulder in an attempt to calm his friend’s (partner’s?) nerves. It seems like it works a little.

“I think I really like what we have now,” Taylor answers eventually. “I like cuddling with you. Hugging you, holding your hand, spending time with you. Sleeping in the same bed, waking up next to you, like you said. I don’t think I’d ever stop liking that. I don’t really want to like, date, or anything,” he says, glancing down at the comforter. Link squeezes his hand, wordless reassurance, and Taylor smiles to himself. “But if you want to try something new,” he considers, “I guess I wouldn’t be against that.”

“Like… kissing?” Link asks hesitantly.

“I, uh… I guess I didn’t mind it, earlier,” Taylor mumbles, and god, he can feel himself blushing.

Suddenly, the floor is much more interesting. Taylor accidentally makes direct eye contact with one of his body pillows, and his face heats further as he quickly looks anywhere else.

“Ooh, you liked it, huh?” Link asks, a teasing lilt to his voice as he nudges his shoulder, and of course that��s the conclusion he would come to seeing Taylor all flustered and red-cheeked like this.

“I - I don’t know!” he blurts, a response to a question that probably wasn’t expecting an answer. “I mean,” Taylor fidgets nervously, his free hand twisting in the blankets. “I wasn’t expecting it, and that was my first kiss, and everything happened so fast and I was worried about you and -” his face feels so, so red right now. God, this is embarrassing.

“Hey, you don’t have to be nervous with me,” Link echoes. “And, uh, sorry that I stole your first kiss. That was kinda shitty.”

“You already apologized,” Taylor replies, feeling a little calmer. “Plus, it’s not like you meant to.”

“I didn’t,” he agrees. “Not then, at least. I’ve thought about it before, though.”

“You have?” Taylor asks, gaping at Link in surprise.

“Uh, yeah,” Lincoln glances away, bashful, but then he looks down at Taylor, and the earnest gleam in his eyes sets Taylor’s heart pounding in his chest. “I’ve thought about it… kind of a lot. You’re, like, really pretty, dude. And funny, and kind, and smart, and loyal…”

“Thanks,” Taylor says, and he would be more self-conscious of his voice cracking if his brain wasn’t currently working overtime to process this new information.

Link likes me. Link loves me. Link thinks I’m pretty. Link’s thought about kissing me “kind of a lot.” Holy fuck.

“Well, do you… uh.” Link pauses. “Do you wanna find out if you like it? Like kissing someone, I mean. With me?”

Jesus Christ. This boy is going to be the death of him.

“You can say no, by the way. I wouldn’t think of you any differently if you don’t want to,” Lincoln reassures quickly, though he seems a little less anxious now. “So, uh. No pressure. But also if it turns out you don’t like kissing, that’s totally okay, and -”

“Okay,” Taylor interrupts.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” he confirms. “I’d rather figure it out with you than with anyone else. I trust you.”

“Oh,” Link mutters, seemingly more to himself than to Taylor. “You sure?”

There’s something fragile about the expression on his partner’s face, something long-closed-off, something vulnerable. The Taylor from a few months ago would’ve run from it, would’ve jostled him a little too roughly and smiled a little too toothily until Link’s expression matched his and things were much less precarious again.

Taylor as he is now, though, lets go of his hand, shifts around on the bed until he sits facing Lincoln, legs straddling his thighs, a few inches of space left between their chests.

“Figured this might be easier,” he says, looking into Link’s wide, dark eyes. “You good?”

“Um,” Link responds tactfully. “Here, let me just… could you get off for a second?”

Taylor quirks a brow at him but complies, and Lincoln makes a bit more space between himself and the headboard, shifting to sit with his legs crisscrossed. Taylor copies him, scooting close enough that their knees touch.

“Better?” Taylor asks.

“Much,” Link replies, looking visibly relieved. Taylor doesn’t really see much of a difference, but it’s definitely nicer to see him more comfortable.

On the other hand, the fact that his best friend is about to kiss him on purpose has Taylor feeling like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin.

“Where do you want me to kiss you?” Link asks, gazing at Taylor with so much open affection that he thinks he might explode.

“Whuh?” Taylor responds intelligently.

“You look nervous,” Link says, taking his hand again, loosely enough so that Taylor could pull away if he wanted to (he doesn’t). “It’s just me, we don’t have to kiss if you don’t want to.”

But I do want to. Maybe, Taylor thinks.

“Would it be okay if you kissed me on the forehead instead?” Taylor says aloud.

Lincoln smiles, and Taylor thinks that even if he closed his eyes, he would still be able to see the radiance of it through the backs of his eyelids.

“More than okay,” he responds, and leans in closer.

Taylor squeaks as Link’s hand cups the side of his face.

“You alright?” Link asks, pausing.

“Yeah,” Taylor says. Link’s cold fingers make a stark contrast against his heated face, and he closes his eyes, leaning into his palm.

Above him, he can hear the way Link exhales, feel the way he closes the distance between them.

Then, there’s a soft pressure at Taylor’s temple, warm and loving. The pressure remains there for a few short seconds, and then Link backs away with a barely-audible sound.

Taylor opens his eyes and lifts his head, and Link drops his hand to Taylor’s knee. He’s much closer than before, and the proximity combined with the lingering sensation of his lips against his skin floods Taylor with a giddy, dizzying feeling.

“So, what’s the verdict?” Link asks.

“Good,” Taylor says, a little breathless. “I, uh, really liked that.”

“Would you be okay with me doing that more often, then?”

Taylor doesn’t even need to stop and consider it. “Yeah,” he replies, and Lincoln smiles, and he smiles back. “More than okay.”

Link’s smile grows, and Taylor finds himself staring at his lips. He lets himself wonder what it would feel like to kiss him, and something swoops in his stomach, a heady concoction of nerves and curiosity and longing.

The smile fades, and his friend’s mouth is slightly downturned in concern. It’s unfair, Taylor thinks, for Link to look handsome even when he frowns. Even so, he’d much rather have him grinning and happy and next to him, and maybe Taylor wonders what it would be like to turn to him and pull him down by the collar of his shirt and fit his lips to the seam of that smile -

“Taylor?”

“Woah,” Taylor mutters, shaking himself out of his forehead-kiss-induced-madness. Because that’s what that was, that’s all that was, right?

“You good?”

“Uh,” Taylor says, still a little transfixed at the way Link’s lips shape out the words.

Ask him, ask him, ask him.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Tumbles out of Taylor’s mouth.

Link’s eyes go wide.

“What?” The question isn’t quite a squeak, but it’s almost there.

“Because I think I kinda wanna kiss you.”

“Are… are you sure?” Link brings his hand up to rest it against Taylor’s cheek again, but it hangs in the air, wavering, like he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to want this.

Taylor thinks that’s pretty stupid, so he snatches his hand out of the space between them, presses his friend’s calloused palm to the contour of his jaw.

Link breathes out shakily. Taylor leans a little further into his space, their foreheads practically touching, looking into his deep, dark eyes.

“I’m sure. Like I said, I trust you.”

“Okay,” Link says, just barely loud enough to be heard. His eyes flit downward to Taylor’s lips, and he tilts Taylor’s jaw the slightest amount, and Taylor closes his eyes against the gentleness of his partner’s touch, against the fierceness of the drumming in his chest.

All the manga and anime and romance movies hadn’t really prepared him for this, Taylor thinks. There are no fireworks as Link kisses him, no burning passion beyond the flustered, demonically-assisted heat already scorching his cheeks.

It’s nothing magical, nothing world-endingly special. Definitely not something that should justify a whole plot’s worth of hype, in his opinion.

Even so, kissing his closest friend feels like something sacred and mundane at the same time. He leans his face just the slightest bit further into Link’s hand, to feel the slowly-softening calluses scattered along his palm, and the gesture has Lincoln humming something delicate that’s muffled against his mouth. The vibrations of it reach down to Taylor’s soul as Lincoln’s lips turn up just the slightest fraction - not enough to break the kiss, but enough so that he can feel it.

Link keeps the kiss chaste, which Taylor greatly appreciates, but there’s something slow and achingly gentle about it. His partner’s other hand moves to the nape of his neck, fingers running through the flyaway hairs there tentatively, then less so as a pleased sigh crawls out of Taylor’s throat, unbidden.

Kissing is… less than what it’s made out to be, Taylor thinks, but it’s not necessarily bad. Strange, new, a little vulnerable in a way that might freak him out under certain circumstances. But here and now, held within Link’s arms, he decides he feels… safe. Cared for. Seen, but by someone he’s okay with being seen by.

After a few moments, Link pulls away, and Taylor lets him, still reveling in the feeling of his palm against his cheek and his hand in his hair and the ghost of pressure against his lips.

“So, Tay,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper as Taylor opens his eyes. “What’d ya think?”

Link’s brown eyes search his face for any signs of discomfort before meeting his own again, and the enormity of his gaze - unabashed, unashamed, so visibly loving and concerned - has something building up in his throat.

“Don’t - you can’t just look at me like that,” Taylor says, voice hoarse, and they’d barely even done anything but he’s still overwhelmed, somehow.

“Sorry,” Link responds, rote and hushed, but his voice pitches up at the end, question implicit.

“Sorry,” he echoes back, “I’m just - not used to…” He pulls his hand away from its place on Link’s shoulder (when had that happened), waving it around in the minimal space between them to gesture at - well, whatever they have going on.

Lincoln nods, blessedly understanding, and though he glances elsewhere, Taylor knows the starry-eyed, near-worshipful awe painted across Link’s features won’t fade from his memory anytime soon.

“It’s kinda scary, isn’t it?” He says, eyes flitting to focus on the way their knees bump together atop the comforter.

“God, terrifying,” Taylor replies, slumping forward to rest his forehead on Link’s shoulder.

Link’s arms circle around him wordlessly, automatically, and it feels like relief, like comfort, like home.

“I thought my heart was gonna, like, explode,” he admits into his best friend’s sleep shirt. “Is it always like that?”

“What? Kissing?”

“No, not that,” Taylor replies. “Like… I don’t know. Feelings?”

“I… I don’t know,” Lincoln settles on after a beat of contemplative silence. “I think you’re the first person I’ve ever really liked this way.”

“Same here,” Taylor admits, leaning further into him simply because it feels right to do so. “I mean, I have little crushes every now and then, but you’re the only one that’s stuck.” He pauses a little, considering. “Even if I don’t like kissing as much as you do.”

“That’s okay,” Link says.

“Not a deal breaker for you, Boss?”

Link gives that cute little half-laugh of his. “Far from it, honey.”

Then, “Was that okay?”

Taylor might as well be permanently flushed around Link from here on out.

“Yep!” He chirps, maybe a little too loudly. “More than okay, babe.”

“You know, I thought I would hate that, but it sounds kinda cute when it’s you saying it,” His partner says, and Taylor can’t fight the toothy grin pulling at his lips.

Then, his mouth stretches a little wider into a yawn.

“Tired?” Link asks, hand drawing meaningless patterns on his back as Taylor nods against his shoulder.

Link hums. “What if I got up to close the blinds and we slept in a little later?”

“That sounds like a great idea, partner,” Taylor replies, a little giddiness welling up in him because they’re partners, now.

And Taylor doesn’t really know what all that entails, yet, but as he watches Link get up and make his way across the room, he figures that it’ll be alright. After all, he’s got his ride-or-die at his side through it all in more ways than one.

#dndads swiftli week 2024 #day 5

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